


CoNTRoLLiNG mY LoVe

by RyftWyrd



Series: Prompts/random [5]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Catharsis, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyftWyrd/pseuds/RyftWyrd
Summary: Catharsis.





	CoNTRoLLiNG mY LoVe

**Author's Note:**

> explanation at the end.

You're beautiful.

You know you are.

You look in the mirror and see your pretty hair and cute nose and the dark voices try to tear at you.

But you see a human looking back at you, and you see that this human is pretty. You're the one looking in the mirror, so unless the mirror is lying to you, _it is, it is, mirrors always lie, like you, you bitch,_ you're actually a very good-looking human.

You're sweet.

You know you are.

You hear people tell you that you're kind and nice and too good for this world. And the dark voices try to tear at you.

But you believe them, and you believe that the person they perceive is sweet and nice. You're the one making those actions, so unless you're acting, _you are, you are, you always have been, you fake bastard,_ you're actually a very kind human.

None of that is true, of course. The voices tell you the truth. They stab into you with thorns and knives and they tell you the truth. You're despicable. You can't have any close relationships, because anyone you get too close to starts to notice that you grimace at nothing, that you laugh at everything, that your tears run heavy or dry depending on how stressed you are.

You can't have any close friends because the voices tell you things about them, things gleaned from the other person's mind, _except that's not true, you can't read minds, but you can, you've always been a telepath,_ and you can't trust anyone and nobody can trust you. The voices try to make you say things, try to make you do things.

They try to make you say hateful vitriol. They try to make you do impulsively dangerous actions. You refuse. You always refuse.

They show you visions of the future, _except it's not the real future, only a possible future, none of them have ever come true,_ and you twist each violent vision to have a more suitable ending. You figured out how to do that. Twist them so that you die heroically in the end, instead of whoever the vision was about.

You don't really want to die anymore, but it would be nice to stop existing. You wish often that you could erase yourself. Those wishes are violently painful and accompanied by the voices listing every single damning thing you've ever done. Wish you could erase yourself, every action, every word, every thing you've created, touched, _ruined_.

When your energy runs out, you go catatonic and revert to a bestial state as a last ditch resistance against being taken over fully by the voices. You growl when people touch you, you struggle to be understood, but you just want to sleep.

But when he touches you, your first instinct is to purr at him, the hallucination attempting to convince you of his reality. You've pretended to be him to hide your own instability, pulled his bombastic arrogant skin over your pathetic weakness, you've pretended to hold his hand to give you courage, almost able to feel the cold bone between your fingers. When he touches you, your first realization is that this is it, you're mad, completely bonkers, and you don't care.

And then he speaks. And the illusion shatters. No hallucination, no _voice_ could ever replicate that powerful booming alto. Chills run down your spine and you give into an impulse for the first time. You hug him, burrowing your face in his tattered crimson scarf.

He speaks again, harsh words, harsh language, not yours. You back away and raise your hands apologetically. You're not sorry. You're never sorry. The trees are the only witness to your foolishness, to this event that has to be you finally losing it, alone, unwanted, unneeded, on a ledge overlooking the forest and bay.

You have nothing to live for. He's here, the evidence of your worst crime, falling victim to the voices and losing. And well, you want to lose on your terms. Control your death, even if you had no control over your life. So you step backwards, and you fall.

####

You're a cute human. You know so. He tells you nearly every day. And you trust him.

You're a just and kind human. The soft arrogance in his eyes when you praise him makes everything worth it. He snuggles you and you bury your face in his scarf.

He has night terrors, he has trouble making friends, and you convince him to swallow his pride and see a therapist. He agrees on one condition.

So you go to a therapist as well. They tell you some things you already know, coping methods you had to learn on your own, and you doubt their effectiveness. But it's nice, having someone to tell your darkest secrets to without fear of judgement. It's nice, being able to look at the content of the voices objectively and realizing that you can defeat them.

It takes time. For both of you. He reveals his deepest ambition to you and you don't laugh at him. And he kisses you. It's a nice kiss, as far as mouth nuzzles go.

Love is an abstract feeling. Some people feel it intensely but don't act it. Others act it with their whole hearts yet can't feel it. You're in the latter category. You can't feel anything, but you've adapted to be able to note your emotional state without feelings. You're in love.

When you confess to him, he grins wickedly and kisses you again, nibbling your lips. He tells you he loves you too and that you'll rule side by side with him someday.

_And maybe he becomes the king of the world. Maybe you lost to the voices and he couldn't save you. Maybe you split up with him for reasons that could be his, yours, or nobody's fault._

_Or maybe you win and are there by his side, ruling the world together._

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a really great story, it's not well-crafted or developed, and it doesn't delve into everything I've been experiencing with my mental illness, schizoaffective disorder- depressive. But it's a start, and it's what I wanted to get out of my system. I'm not good at finishing anything. I have a lot of unfinished works on this site and off it, works which are great ideas and maybe I've world-built them extensively, but in the end, I won't always be able to finish everything I start. So I'm going to focus on one work at a time. I have 100,000 words that I didn't use for this fic, attempts at story arcs, attempts to make relationships work, but in the end they were all failures and this fic is still a failure but I'm sharing it anyway because I'm tired of being stuck. If you want to see the unfinished wreckage of words that I started but ultimately shelved, if you want to take some ideas from them and run with those, let me know. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
